Still Hurting
by Queenie and Kate
Summary: Mimi, Mark... Mimi makes a big mistake and has to deal with it. I caaaan't write suuuuumaaaaaries... New Chapter: 010106 Mimi and Roger talk. Mimi confesses all her little dumbboy secrets that have taken place.
1. Chapter One

**Still Hurting**

_By: Erin (Kate)_

It was stupid, really. How it happened. Roger and I had a huge fight. I don't remember what about. Something stupid, like me being too close to Mark while we talked about getting him a girlfriend. Or being too 'touch-y'. It doesn't matter. We just got into a huge, screaming fight and I tossed my AZT at him. 

It seems like I overreacted but… it wasn't just that one fight. It was… every time we were together. We didn't have good times anymore. It always felt like everything I said was just so stupid, all my opinions and ideas. He'd give me that look, with his lip curled up, and I always knew that I just should have kept my mouth shut.  

After having such a long addiction to drugs, I went through withdrawal just for missing two doses of AZT. Rog and I finally made up. (There was really no 'finally' involved, we made up late that night. I was such a mess from missing my medication.)

Gave Roger even more of a chance to baby me then. After all, _I was stupid enough to stop taking __my AZT, so of course, __I needed to be taken care of. __I needed to be spoon fed all my meals, and be kept in bed. Because __I couldn't be trusted to take care of myself._

All I wanted was for Roger to treat me like his girlfriend he loved.

I just wanted Roger to love me.

I was okay for a little; he made me take some of _his AZT. I couldn't let him keep doing that; __he needed to take his AZT. We couldn't afford more, I knew that, but I couldn't think of how to get more money and I wouldn't let myself keep taking Roger's anymore. He was being amazingly self-sacrificing, but I couldn't let him keep doing that. And yet, he __did keep doing it._

"You did _what?" I screeched, managing to sit up in our bed. I don't know where I found the ability to do it, I was so screwed up from missing my medicine._

"I sold my guitar. Got a couple thousand for it too." Roger smiled proudly, pulling his wallet out and presenting the money. My eyes just bugged out, I hadn't seen that much money for a long, long time.

"You shouldn't have done that, Rog," I said softly, pulling the blanket up and over my shoulders as the chills overtook me again. "I… I don't deserve it, this is my fault and you shouldn't have sold your guitar for me. I'm not worth that much."

"You're the woman I love." He was so disappointed, I could tell. He thought he had done this wonderful, amazing thing and he thought I would be happy. I just couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that I had forced him to come to this. He loved his guitar, and I had taken it away from him. "Besides, it was getting old. Time for a new one, anyway. I'll go out and find a real nice one once we get the money. Don't worry, babe."

I started shaking more violently then. Roger wrapped his arms around me and gently lowered me down, tucking me in like a little kid. "I'm so-sorry," I choked out, desperately trying to calm myself.

"Shhh…" Roger laid down beside me, gently pressing kisses over my face. "It's not your fault that you're sick, sweetheart."

"Bu-but I th…threw out my medi…medicine and that's why I'm si-ick." I frowned at how hard I was working to get the words out. I know now that it was being stressed over the whole guitar issue that exaggerated my "condition", but at the time, I was just too terrified of everything that was going on around me to figure it out.

I saw my frown reflected on Roger's face as his features hardened. "That's it, Mimi. You're going to the hospital." I didn't want to go, we had had this argument before. Right when Roger tried to give me his AZT the first time, he told me if I didn't take it, we'd be going to the hospital. I didn't really have much choice, Roger had me all scooped up in his arms before I had time to react.

"We can't afford the hospital," I protested softly. I didn't have the energy to argue anymore, though. My head just rolled back against Roger's chest and I started to cry.

And that's when Mark walked in. He didn't understand what was going on, and I remember snapping at him at one point, or replying bitterly. That's when Roger "really got upset". He just started yelling at me—for "being bitter to Mark", for refusing to go to the hospital. It was just too much.

I don't know how where I got the energy from, but I managed to rip myself out of Roger's arms and scream, "I'm not a goddamn child! Don't fucking baby me!" I turned on my heel and managed a quite dramatic exit. Until just out of the loft where I tripped over my own feet and tumbled down the stairs.

Roger didn't even come after me. He poked his head out the door to see if I was alright, but it was Mark who came down and carried me into my apartment. And it was Mark who held me while I cried on the couch because I didn't want to be alone. It felt so good to held by Mark, have him take care of me. Having someone just hold me without expecting or wanting anything.

I kissed him.

He pulled away, staring at me in complete disbelief. It made sense to me, I had shocked myself too, I didn't mean to kiss him. "Mimi…" Mark managed to choke out, his throat obviously dry. 

I was just so in shock by what I had just done. I loved Roger and I had never cheated on him before, no matter what he thought. And now look at me! What kind of person kisses her boyfriend's best friend, her best friend. My mind was spinning and I knew there was absolutely no way to justify what I had just done. "Oh… Oh god, Mark, I am so sorry…" I managed, my eyes filling with tears, before shooting up unsteadily and darting into my bedroom. My legs immediately collapsed once into the room, and I just sobbed, clutching a pillow to my chest. I couldn't even think, all that was going through me was the overwhelming feeling that I had shattered my entire life around me. 

I couldn't believe I had done something that awful, it was terrifying me to think of what would happen when Roger found out. I might as well have ripped his heart out of his chest, for how much what I did would hurt him. "Mark? Is Mimi okay?" And my eyes shot open, tears catching in my throat. Fuck, this is going to kill him. 

I slowly managed to get up and make my way over to the window. I hung out of it a little, trying to figure out if they'd miss me if I were gone. Or just be happy that I weren't there to screw things up anymore. 

"Mimi kissed me…" I heard Mark whisper softly. Fuck it, he's completely spineless. 

My legs nearly collapsed from under me when I hear Roger's pained voice respond. He sounded like he was going to cry. "Mimi… what?" It finally made sense to me, I had to go. I couldn't keep ruining Roger's life the way I do. 

I burst into tears again, hearing Roger's thunderous scream from upstairs. How could I have done that? Slowly, methodically, I moved through my room, packing up a small bag of clothes and important items. I couldn't keep doing things like that—they didn't need me around. I had screwed everything up enough already. 

Listening to Roger destroy the apartment upstairs, I slowly lifted myself out the window onto the fire escape. I had only gone a step or so, before I collapsed. "I am such a fuck-up… Can't even run away properly."

I don't know how I managed to do it, it doesn't seem logical, since I was so weak. But somehow, I made my way down the fire escape and ended up sitting on the curb, tears silently streaking down my face. I didn't know where I was going, I just knew I had to go. 

"Well well well." I jumped a little at the smarmy voice behind me, my body tensing up even more as one arm slipped around my waist and another hand started running through my hair. "What's a matter today, my little Latin princess?" 

Trying hard to stop crying, I stared up at him, the tears starting to freeze. I didn't even think to bring a fucking jacket, I'm always such a screw-up. "I don't have any money, Steve," I whispered softly, his hands slipping tighter around me. 

"It's alright, you know there's other ways to pay, cutie pie." I stared numbly, knowing exactly what he wanted from me. It didn't matter anymore, anyway, there was no point. This was what I am, I knew I was never going to be anything more than the skanky little Latina, living from one hit to the next. He slipped one hand down to my ass and tangled the fingers of his other with mine, leading me into an alley we both knew was always deserted.

45 minutes later, I was sitting on the bottom step of the fire escape, the sweater Steve was wearing under his overcoat earlier wrapped around my shoulders. "Same time tomorrow, babe," he commanded fiercely. I nodded weakly, staring down at the white packet in my hand. Smack, needle, spoon, lighter... everything I'd need for at least 5 good hits. He knew how to take care of his customers, if nothing else.

My hands started shaking, but I managed to get everything ready through the shakes. As the needle slid into my arm, my eyes squeezing at the initial pain, I couldn't believe my life came to this again.

And I haven't gone back. I'm sitting now, on Steve's bed, staring down at the stupidest thing I could have brought with me when I left. A picture of me and Roger the Halloween after Angel died. I haven't even seen him since I left, not really.

We ran into each other on the street once.  I remember staring up at Roger and pleading for him to hit me. To make me hurt as much as I made him. I know that physical pain is more than I deserve, I know that even what I've done to myself isn't as bad as what I did to him. 

With a glance over at Steve sleeping, I slide the picture back into my bag and stand up. I gaze numbly into the mirror across the room, you wouldn't recognize me as the same girl who boldly burst into Roger's apartment and forced him to go out with me three years ago. Everything about me is dull. 

I pull the huge sweater I'm wearing tighter around me, my elbows poking out obviously far too obviously. I'm dying, I know. AIDS has been full-blown for awhile now, stopping taking my medicine didn't help. 

I don't want to die—not because I want to be alive. Just because I don't deserve it. That would be taking the easy way out. I'm supposed to suffer, after forcing everyone around me to suffer so much. 

A month ago, I stopped by the loft. Climbed up the fire escape and snuck in through the window I know doesn't lock. I couldn't find any signs of Roger in the main area and I couldn't bring myself to go look in his room. 

If he had died, nobody would let me know. It's not like I even left any way for them to contact me. They could have found me when I was still at the Cat Scratch but… I'm not there anymore. I had to stop working. Too weak.

I check the obituaries for Roger every day, but I don't think he'd be in there. 

I certainly won't be.  

With a soft sigh, I pull on another jacket then grab my bag. Going to the park. It's only fitting that I should die on the streets, cold. That's the worse I can think of for me. Except this time, I'm not going to be begging anyone to take me back to the loft.

They don't need me.

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**Author's Note: Yeah, um… that was really difficult to write, there's more coming.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

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	2. Chapter Two

Every day now. I can't help myself. All I wanted was… if I had to die, then I had to die alone. Nameless, faceless, meaningless.

The little girl who would have been pretty, a lifetime ago.

Sadistic, masochistic, I know, but the whole part of being me was that it was painful. I _hurt Roger and I just deserved to hurt in return. Dying would have been escaping the hurt. So I couldn't be me anymore. I had to be no one so I wouldn't __be escaping._

It made sense to me in theory when I made the decision. But… now… it's every day that I walk past Mark and Roger's building. For all my talk of separating from myself, I miss Roger so bad.

I walk past and just stop and stare up. I'm not scared of them seeing me, they wouldn't recognize me anyway. I'm not pretty anymore, I'm not vibrant—I'm just this dirty little street girl with too much hair. And that's all they would see. They could probably walk right into me, help me up and continue walking without realizing it was me at all. Or Mark could. I can't help but hope that Roger would recognize me. We're supposed to be connected.

I wish I knew what was going on with Roger up there. If he's sick, if he misses me… hell, I don't know if he's even alive.

And my dirty hands are pulling the door open and my legs are walking up the hard cement stairs like I've made this trip a thousand times before, because I have. But not ever like this. My body has gotten used to not walking up stairs and I'm so tired halfway up that all I want is to stop and sit down. My legs don't stop, though, and suddenly I'm in front of a door covered in marker scribbles.

_Mimi Marquez & Roger Davis, March 25, 2002**- 3 MONTHS. STILL EXISTING. ROGER HAPPY.**_

_I die, without you. Love you, RogerBaby._

**_I HAVE ALWAYS LOVED YOU. YOU CAN SEE IT IN MY EYES. ~ROGER DAVIS,2001_**

**__**

I gingerly trace my fingers over the messages about me and Roger, trying hard not to cry. This shouldn't affect me, because I'm not me anymore.

But, I'm lying to myself and I know it. I can't escape from being in love with Roger. And I can't escape the fact that I'm getting really sick… and I'm going to die. I want to make things right with Roger before I do, I can't let it end like this. I need him to know that it wasn't my plan to go out and hurt him with Mark. I need him to know that—even though we fought all the time—I loved… _love him. More than anything._

I can't lie to myself anymore.

Myself has gotten too intuitive and sees right through it.

My hand's curled into a fist and I timidly knock on the door. I don't know what I'm going to do if Roger's not here, if he's—I'm not going to think about that. I can't. Roger'll be in there and he'll be okay.

I can't stop my entire body from tensing up, though, when I hear the "attempting to open it up" noises from behind the door. My eyes open hopefully when I see the blonde hair, but reality comes crashing down the second I catch sight of the glasses perched on the face below the blonde hair. I clear my throat, swallow hard, and finally manage in a small voice, "Mark?"

He looked like he was going to say something, but now his eyes open wide in recognition and his mouth snaps shut. I manage a weak smile while I watch his features harden. Oh God, what's wrong? "Mimi," Mark responds coolly. My attempt at a smile immediately disappears. "You shouldn't have come back."

And suddenly I'm staring at the marker-covered door again. Mark shut the door on me.

I reach out again and bang on the door.

No response.

I didn't expect one.

"Roger?" I whisper pathetically at the door. You dumb little girl. Do you really think he's going to answer you? He's not even fucking in there… You saw how Mark responded. Roger's dead. There's no other explanation. He got sick or… or he committed suicide after your inner slut decided to pop out. You killed the man you love, Mimi, and there's no way you can just go waltz back into his best friend's life.

By this point, tears are absolutely streaming down my face. I turn numbly and start slowly, carefully making my way down the stairs. Wouldn't do me any good to fall down these stairs again. I look down at my feet, making sure to carefully plant my foot on each step. On the landing on the floor where I used to live, I run smack into a body. My eyes lift, staring forward at a broad chest clothed in a green button-up shirt. "Fuck, I'm sorry," I mumble, my nose all stuffed up from crying now.

My eyes lift even more now, and I find myself looking into a pair of dark brown eyes, sparkling in recognition. The mouth that goes with the eyes curves into a little smile. "Mimi!" Benny.

I try to smile at him, but fail horribly and instead just start to cry with actual sound now. The recognition and smile immediately fades away into complete concern as his eyes sweep over my body. "Oh Benny," I whisper and suddenly I'm five feet off the ground, held up firmly in Benny's arms. I'm not sure entirely what he's doing, but my head rolls and buries into his chest anyway. I trust him.

I feel myself being set down on a soft surface. A blanket being gently pulled over me. My eyes flutter open now that the tears have started to slow. I'm in my apartment. My old apartment, exactly the way I left it. My head tips back and Benny's sitting on the couch, my head laying in his lap. One hand gently strokes my pile of tangled hair, while the other wipes off make-up streaks. Steve liked me to wear make-up.

Why are we in my old apartment? "Benny?" I ask in a tiny voice. "Why are we…? Isn't the person who's renting the apartment going to be… I mean…"

"Shhhh, Mimi." I shut up, looking at the expression on his face. He looks so… it's like a mixture of love and concern and worry and relief. "There's no one renting the apartment, I… uh… saved it for you." He looks down at me with an embarrassed grin, looking a little red. I smile a little, that's sweet. "I mean… it's not like you were paying to live here before and I was hoping…" He grins again and sits me up now. "Let me look at you, Mimers. I'm so happy you're here, I missed you… really, seriously, I missed you so much."

I slowly stand myself up, holding tightly to Benny's hand for support. I'm not the greatest at quick, or major, movements anymore. He reaches out and steadies me, resting his hand on my hip. Tears spring back into my eyes again as I watch him recoil some. I was so happy by his reaction to me, it's so much better than anyone else is anymore. "Don't cry, Mimi. No no no, shhhh, don't cry. I just… why are you so skinny?"

I stare at Benny, making my eyes go blank. What am I supposed to tell him? That I'm skinny because I'm sick and I ran away from my dealer so I've been living on the streets for the past two weeks? And I wasn't even eating properly when I _was living with Steve for those five months? "Last time I weighed myself I weighed 95 lbs," I finally whisper in the quietest voice I can manage._

Benny sighs, letting go of my hand to slide his other hand down to my hip. I bite my lip, no wonder Benny reacted like that before, I can feel my bones against his palm. Disgusting. He reaches up after a second and pushes some hair out of my face. "Mimi, go have a shower, okay? Your comb and shampoo and everything is still… you like that vanilla and orange shampoo, right?" I nod with wide eyes, absolutely amazed by him knowing that and caring. I've just been using Steve's leftover shampoo, or restroom soap, lately and this is so… "Good. Go have your shower and I'll… I'll get you something to eat, alright?"

I nod again, less scared now. A small smile spreads across Benny's face, as he leans up to kiss my cheek. He lets go of my hips now and I start to shake a little. It's stupid, I know, but what if he doesn't… I mean, Benny doesn't really have any reason to stay and—"Mimi? Mimi, come on, look at me." I feel Benny tapping my chin to raise my eyes. When did he stand up? "I'm not going anywhere, promise. Come on, sweetie, just go have your shower, you'll feel better."

I don't really have any other choice.  Benny won't take no for an answer, I know. And he's always right too, the shower _does make me feel better. That is, until it's time to comb my hair out. I just can't do it. I can't stand and I can't hold my arms up for that long. Too much hair. Wrapping a big blue robe that's not mine over my clothes, I take the comb and carefully make my way out to the main room. I have to support myself by holding my hand on the wall. "Benny?" I call softly. "I can't… could you… maybe comb my hair out for me?"_

He turns around, looking at me in confusion from the "kitchen". "Why can't you comb your own hair, Mimi?" My shoulders slump a little, but he doesn't notice. He's turned back to the stove already.

"I can't stand up for that long." Clatter. My eyes widen as I realize Benny just dropped a ladle on the floor. He slowly turns, holding a bowl of soup in his hand. What did I do wrong?

"Sit down, Mimi," he commands in a strained voice. I immediately do as he says, watching him move around the kitchen. He adds crackers to the soup, then comes over and sets it in my lap. "Eat." I obediently take a small spoonful as Benny picks up the comb I left next to me. "I did think you'd be able to eat a lot of something solid right now if you haven't been… so I just…" He trails off and starts just gently pulling the comb through my hair instead.

"Eat!" I look up, realizing I haven't taken any more bites since that first one. "Goddamnit, Mimi, eat your fucking soup!" My eyes widen and I take a token spoonful as we lapse back into silence. What did I do wrong? "Mimi?" His voice is gentle now. He feels bad for yelling before, I guess. "Why are you so… weak and sick and everything?"

Can't tell Benny that. He'll just yell at me. And I'll sound stupid. Besides, why should he have to ask that, it should be obvious. I've been gone… "I haven't been taking my medicine," I finally whisper, knowing Benny wants a response. 

He's pulling the comb harder now. I can tell he's mad. "Why haven't you been taking your medicine?" He asks, his voice steel. Crap.

"I… I didn't see any point," I finally stutter, scared of his reaction. He's gonna be mad and—he's gone. My mouth twists into a frown, that's not what I expected and—the couch next to me sinks down again. 

"Take this." A hand is thrust in front of me, little pills in it. I stare up at Benny with wide eyes. "They're probably expired, but just take them, Mimi. I'll get you a new fill of prescription tomorrow, but just take them for today. I don't want you to…" He's worried. I take the old AZT and obediently swallow it with a spoonful of soup.

I wish I knew why he was doing all this.

A long time later, I'm finally finished my bowl of soup. Benny takes it and washes it. He's being so… "You're going to bed now."

"I'm what?" I let out a squeal, as I'm suddenly lifted up in Benny's arms again. Before I realize exactly what's going on, he's set me so I'm sitting on the edge of my bed. And his hands are pulling at my bathrobe, then my shirt. Of course. I should have expected that this is why he's being so nice. This is what they always want.

As Benny pulls my shirt off, I stare numbly down at the floor waiting for him to make the next move. Bra unclasping. And then kissing and Benny doing whatever he wants to me. And—but it stops after the bra-unclasping. "Mimi?" Benny's voice penetrates my consciousness. I slowly raise my eyes, finding him staring at me in compete concern. "What drawer do you keep your pajamas in?"

I wordlessly point at the bottom drawer, watching him in confusion. He kneels down and sifts through my pajamas, eventually pulling out a long sleeved pair. That's really weird, you'd think he'd… "Lift up your arms, Mimi," Benny tells me softly. I do as he says, incredibly confused, until he starts to carefully pull the top over my arms and then my head. "Do you think you can put the bottoms on yourself, or do you want me to help?"

"I'm… I'm okay," I respond softly, as Benny helps me stand. My eyes widen a little as I realize. He's actually putting me to bed. The bottoms are relatively easy on—maybe the food and old AZT helped—but Benny scoops me up almost immediately after getting them on. He gently "tosses" me onto the bed, then crawls in beside me.

My eyes widen more and I think I start to panic a little, though, as I watch Benny. He undoes the buttons on his shirt, then starts on his pants. Fuck, I thought… Benny looks up now, noticing my panic. "Shhh, no, Mimi, I'm just—" He desperately points at my pajamas. "Sleep… Is it alright if I…?"

He wants to join me. Sleep in the same bed as me, but not sleep with me. A small smile comes over my face. "Yeah, it's okay." I nod a little, as Benny smiles and undresses himself. I'm actually okay with Benny sleeping next to me in just boxers. He lays me down and crawls in next to me before I realize.

"Won't Alison be mad? If you don't…"

"Don't worry about Alison," Benny interrupts sharply, causing me to cringe away. He sighs a little and draws me back into his arms. "I'm not married to Alison anymore, just don't worry about her, alright?"

"But, what?"

"You need sleep, Mimi," He interrupts me again, with a sigh this time. "We'll talk about this tomorrow, sleep now."

He doesn't need to tell me again. I don't really have enough energy to think about whatever's going on with Benny's marriage. I do feel better than when I woke up this morning, but… I cuddle myself more into Benny's arms, a small smile on my face. He feels so warm… and safe… and he cares about me.

For the first time in months, I feel good going to bed. I don't feel so awful about kissing Mark, I can make things okay, I can make Roger… It's far too reassuring that Benny doesn't hate me, has just accepted me back.

Maybe things can be okay?

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**Author's Note: Well, after a long wait, and the grounding of my beta reader, this is finally here! Thank you sooooo much to Ellen for reading this, and I *am* going somewhere with Marky. ;) Hopefully you all liked this, I'm kinda proud of it!**

**Disclaimer: Nope, no one's mine!**

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	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

"Made eeeeggs!" Benny sings out. I jump, nearly walking into the wall. He grins, holding out a plate of yellow scrambled eggs. I instinctively jump again, as I see the outward thrust of his hands, but force myself to calm down. Benny's not going to do anything. He doesn't want anything from me. I still can't stop myself from tugging the sleeves of my sweater down over my hands.

"Where did we get eggs from?" I ask softly, carefully taking the eggs from him and moving to sit down at the table. I should know better than to be scared of him, he treated me so gently all night and he even let me have nightmares and smack him. Right now I feel like I'd do anything for him.

"Well… I was… and I had…" Benny's voice drops to a mumble as he digs forks out of the drawer for us and joins me at the table.

"You want me to buy you beer?" I ask in confusion, taking a little bite of my breakfast.

"No no!" He reaches across the table and grabs my hand. I grin a little as I watch him turn red.

I don't even notice my fingers gently stroking Benny's hand. But I do notice him start to calm down and a smile cross his face. "Come on, Benny. Tell me what you were saying."

He just kind of shrugs, but I can feel him gripping my hand. "I've been living here, Meems. Cuz me and Ali got divorced and I didn't want to rent the apartment out, encase you came back and I wanted to wait for you and…"

I can't talk. All I can do is stare at him, brown eyes taking up half my face. I know he wants me to talk and I know he's getting worried now that I'm not. But I can't bring myself to. Tiny hands grip one of his big ones. He told me this was something he'd never do. When we were together. He told me that he needed Alison. She was his ticket. The other hand is cupping my face. "Meems? Eat some of your eggs, okay? You look all pale… Come on, honey, eat it for me. You're still too skinny, and I just want you to be healthy, okay?"

I numbly take a bite, barely able to function, as his concerned eyes swim into my vision. "Meems, baby… it's okay. Because now I can stay here and take care of you… I'll nurse you back to health, baby." A goofy grin crosses his face and he kisses my knuckles. I force a giggle for him, feeling his soft lips tickle me. I'm starting to come back to my senses. Suddenly, he jumps up and I don't move my head to follow him. No need. He comes dancing back into my view, holding a couple pill bottles. Shit.

"AZT, baby," he rumbles, playing with my hair. "Plus a couple others. I called your doctor this morning, he was pretty shocked to hear from me… mumbled something about you being dead…" He smiles, weakly. "Anyway, I told him what was wrong with you and stuff and… He gave me all these prescriptions for you. So, let's figure out what you need to take and how often and then we can set up your beeper." 

I just sit there and listen to Benny ramble as he shoves various pills in my mouth and makes me swallow them with ginger ale. And then, for some reason, my lips are pressed against his and I'm playing with his back. And he's pulled away and is just sitting there, blinking at me. "You got divorced?" I finally whisper. "Because of—"

"Shhh…" he cuts me off, then tenderly presses his lips against mine."It doesn't have anything to do with you. Ali cheated on me and was dumb enough to get caught. I got everything, babe." A soft smile crosses his face. "We're gonna be great, Mimi. We just have to get you all healthy, then we can go on a trip. Maybe I'll take you back to Spain… you can see all the places where your mom grew up, go visit your Nana."

I know my eyes are still huge, even as Benny scoops me up and carries me into the bedroom. He lays beside me and I'm still quiet and shocked. His fingers lightly dance over my body and I swallow hard, trying to regain my senses. "Benny, you can't take me to Spain. It's… it's too much."

He just smiles and starts to kiss along my neck. It's too weird. It's the middle of the day and the window's open and the blinds are up and cars are driving by and he's… "Mimi, nothing's too much. I've gotta make it up to you. Make up for all the shit I've put you through, and that bastard Davis put you through and whatever happened to you while you were gone." I suddenly realize that he's not wearing a shirt and mine is on the way off as a grin slowly spreads across his face. 

"Let's go out tonight, Mimi. For real. Let's go out to a nice restaurant and I don't _care if people see us together. Then we can go out to a show and…" I still don't say anything and he quickly backpedals, his eyes wide with fright. "Okay. Okay, baby, no show. Not if you don't feel up to it." He's starting to get frantic. "Or a show. No dinner. We'll only do one thing if you're not up for two. Mimi…?"_

I shake my head and slowly turn, letting Benny's lips redirect themselves to mine. "I'm okay, Benny. It's just… trippy, is all. It's weird." His arms are around me, big hands fumbling with my bra. "Benny, it clasps at the front." A boyish grin flashes across Benny's face as he moves his hands. "It doesn't feel like we should be doing this, especially during the day. It feels weird to be with a guy who treats me nice and is going to take me out to do these expensive amazing things tonight and—"

Benny cuts me off with a kiss. He's relieved that I don't have any problems with what he's doing. "You just lay back and let Benjamin Coffin the Third give you another amazing thing, baby," he rumbles as I dissolve into giggles at his attempt to be "suave".

And now it's about 2 in the morning and I'm sitting on Benny's lap as he babbles about why the alcohol he bought for us is good quality and how the show was good. "Liked the dark haired singing girl… you should play her." 

I think he's a little drunk. He stops babbling and blinks at me. I'm not drunk. "Meems? Something wrong? Why aren't you talking?"

I shrug at him, my hand resting on his strong arm. So much different than Steve's. Guess he still has that whole workout routine thing he used to do when we started dating. "Benny?" I ask quietly. This is the one thing I've been scared to ask him. "How's Roger doing?"

In a flash, the sweet, beautiful man who's been taking care of me for the past two days is gone, and a man I know well is in front of me. "_Davis_? You want to know about fucking _Davis?" he snarls at me. He lets out a hoarse, barking laugh. "Why am I not surprised? It's always been about Davis, hasn't it?"_

He's got me pushed up against the couch, his knee between my legs hard, taking rough nips at my body. "You little whore. After all I've fucking done for you… and all you can think of is _him. You're _mine_, bitch, you even let me come inside… how did you stop yourself from screaming __his name?" I'm crying. "You dumb little… Roger broke you. _He's_ the reason you're the pathetic little… don't __ever talk about him again." I'm crying and he's not doing anything at all. He kisses me harshly, driving my head back into the couch, before releasing me._

All I can do is cry and shake, until I finally find me voice. "Get out. This is my apartment, get _out." My voice is steadily gaining strength. "At least Roger never pinned me to my couch and called me names."_

He's Benny again. Broken, defeated, lonely Benny, throwing himself at me desperately. "Mimi! I didn't mean—" I glare defiantly at him and just turn my back on him. "Marina Sophia, please."

He uses my real name and I almost break. But I'm not Mimi anymore. I turn and just smack him. "Get out!"

Hurt, deep brown eyes stare at me as they slowly make their way out the door. I don't break down until the door closes and the eyes are gone.

A little girl sits on a new couch, crying her eyes out.

All I can do is watch and think how she—I—didn't deserve a good man at all. 


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

"Eat your dinner," Benny tells me softly, setting a plate down in front of me. I don't respond, instead staring forward at the painting I hung on the wall the other day. He sighs. "Meems, take all your medicines." He sets all the pill bottles in front of me.

I finally reach forward and open the bottles, methodically taking them with the ginger ale he always feeds me. "Baby, how long are you going to ignore me for?" I repress the smirk that's trying to spread across my face. I got through to him.

He sighs and bends over, tenderly kissing my forehead. I flinch and try to pull away from him. "I'll see you tomorrow morning with your breakfast, babe." He refills my ginger ale glass, then pulls on his jacket. "Don't go anywhere, sweetie. Don't run away again. I'll call." He pauses at the door. "I love you."

My eyes squeeze shut at this point. The door clicks. "I'm not gonna go anywhere, Benny." He's gone. I sit there, obediently eating my dinner as I think about Benny. I do what he tells me to. As much as I hate him for it.

He's keeping me alive. For the past month, every day. He brings me my food, makes me take my medicine, pays for cable. But he won't stay with me. He won't fucking stay and I won't ask.

I hate him. Why won't he just let me go, instead of making me stay in lonely emptiness? He doesn't even let me leave the apartment, brings everything to me. He even bought me a whole bunch of new clothes. Nice clothes, warm, not remotely slutty, nothing like me. Expensive too… he forgot to cut out one of the price tags.

I'm climbing out my window, a blanket and notebook in my hands. I'm not running away. I just like to be here. Being able to look and people and think. It's not even thinking about me and Roger and Benny and Mark. It's just… thinking. About life and people and everything.

I'm trying to write a play.

I have to do something. It's a pathetic excuse for human contact but… at least it's something.

Sometimes I think I miss human contact. But then I see someone who looks like Steve walk by or I watch another girl get yelled at by her boyfriend and I realize that I'm better off up here on my fire escape, being babysat by Benny.

There isn't any of that in my play. There's conflict, sure, but it takes place in a better place—Spain. I know that I know enough about it and it's all exotic and beautiful. It doesn't take place in any cold slum. I don't even want to see a cold slum and I live in one, why would anyone else?

It's getting colder too. I don't even know what month it is, but I know winter's coming. I think that unless I get less skinny, it's gonna get too cold for me to go outside and write. I don't know what I'm gonna do to run away from the loneliness then.

Maybe I'll have to start talking to Benny again.

As it stands, I'm too cold to write today anyway. I'm going to blame that on the fact that it's after dinner and just pray that it's not at that "too cold" point. I'm not ready to go back in yet—not until sleep time—so I just tuck my hands into my sleeves and try to hold the blanket tightly around me. Maybe someone interesting will—

"Hey Meems."

That was my name. I swear to God, that was someone saying my name. I twist around desperately, trying to figure out where the voice came from. It wasn't Benny's voice which means… I have no clue who it can… no one even calls me "Meems" anymore. Maybe I just imagined it.

"Sorry I haven't talked to you for a long time."

Dios, that's the voice again, I didn't… It doesn't make sense why I can't see him though. I can't be imagining it, I'm supposed to be getting better and healthy people don't imagine things.

There's a clatter above me, followed by a brief rough sob. Shit, that's why I couldn't figure out—suddenly, my worries about imaging things are completely gone and the blanket is pooled around my feet as I'm up and gripping to fire escape ladder. It's Roger. I know it. He's wearing the same plaid pants as the first night.

I can hear him laughing a little now, even though I can see his legs shaking the way they always do when he cries. I've only ever seen him cry a few times, but I know he is right now. And I can't even begin to think about what it means that he's crying because all I can focus on is the fact that it's my Roger up there.

"Nothing really new is going on with me… I picked my guitar up the other day and you should have heard Mark go fucking nuts. It's like I told him I won the lottery or some shit, instead of me picking up an out of tune broken-down guitar. I guess you didn't know he bought it back from the pawn shop after you… left. Well, he did… guess he hoped it would bring some snapping me out of it action… or some such shit. I should tell you I still haven't talked to him. He thinks I don't talk at all anymore.

"Anyway, I put the guitar back down—wanted to see Mark get his panties all in a knot. Maybe if he plays nice, I'll play a couple of chords in a week or something."

There's a pause and I can see Roger shuddering and I know he's still crying. MY knuckles are turning white from gripping the bars so hard. My arms are beginning to shake and my shoulders are freezing because they're uncovered but I won't sit back down. Roger's talking to me and I know that he doesn't know I'm listening and I still can't miss a word. If I sit down, I don't know if I can not run up and hug my crying Roger. My grip tightens in intensity and I bite down viciously on my lip to stop myself from calling out his name.

"I hope you're doing okay, baby." His voice is getting all rough now and I know that he's just barely hanging on. All I want is to hold him. "I know you're not, but I want to hope that you are. And I want you to know that I'm sorry. Um… I know I never said it before, but I am. Things were so much more wrong than I knew and… god, I made you kiss Mark. I _made_ everything get bad and you get pushed to that point. I made you throw away your AZT at that first fight even. Jesus, Mimi, I am so sorry. I'm sorry I never trusted you right and I'm sorry for all the times I pushed you around and I'm sorry I killed you. I never meant to make you run away. I'm so scared that now you're—"

He turns around now and I can hear the fire escape clang. I think he heard something. "Mother calls," I can almost hear him mutter bitterly as he wipes at his eyes. "Before we know it, I'll be bundled up and dragged inside. I'll try to talk to you again soon… I… I love you, Meems. Still. Always."

As soon as he's done, I can hear a window open and suddenly there's another figure on the fire escape. "Rog, why are you out in the cold? You're gonna get sick."

Mark. The bastard. Roger wanted me… wants me… and he…

"Look, I made some soup, so you've gotta come in and eat that and take your cocktail. Your doctor is still going on about your weight so we have to make at least some pretense of eating until pay day next week."

I stand there, numb, until Mark leads a silent Roger back into the loft. I then slowly bend down and collect my things and climb back into my apartment. My gaze almost immediately lands on the carefully lined up shelf of pill bottles as my phone begins to ring (Benny checking up on me) and for once I'm grateful to Benny for all this.

I have to stay, to not give up, to fight against my body and disease for the first time in months. At least until I see my Roger.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

I saw my Roger. And everything Mark implied when I came up to the loft was a lie.

I've been sitting back in my apartment for an hour now. Maybe two. And I still can't quite wrap my mind around those two facts. I don't know why Mark would lie. Or how he could possibly forgive himself for pretending that Roger was dead. Or why Roger would be sitting up there talking to me. I broke him so badly before I left—why would he ever even want to speak to me again? Or think of me?

But he does. He does talk to me. I think he wants to see me. I gotta let him. Even if it's only so he can scream at me for everything I did to hurt him, I still think I need to let him.

It's going to be really, really hard, though. I mean, shit, I don't know how… Mark's never gonna let me in to see him and Roger doesn't seem like he connects to the outside world… he's not gonna fight with Mark to open the door. But I'll figure it out. With everything I took away from Roger, I can at least give him the opportunity to scream at me to his heart's content. I think it's the only thing I _can_ give him, the only thing that's any good and—

"Mimi Marqueeeeeeez!" My apartment door slams open and I jump a foot. I should lock it, I know, but that's Benny's job. He used to lock me in. Not that it could stop me from going out if I really wanted to, but it was just another deterrent. I guess he stopped. I must have proved myself. Proved myself to be the good little Mimi he was always deluding himself that I could be if he just pushed me hard enough. Cuz it was never about me—he couldn't be with _me_. Only if I made myself into that perfect little girlfriend that he could bring to big company parties.

It's amazing how big realizations like that can pass through your mind in a split second. Really, a split second is all I have to come to terms with the fact that me and Benny will always be a thing of the past. Because now there's a blonde human tornado exploding into my apartment, cannon balling over the back of my couch and kissing me firmly on my lips.

Maureen Johnson.

Dramatic as always.

"Hey baby," I finally tease, once I've taken that moment to centre myselfthat you always need when Maureen Johnson fights her way into the scene. She's a very overwhelming lady. "Good to know some people didn't change."

Aaaaand… she's shaking me. I'm not fully convinced she's ever going to change as my entire body rattles back and forth under her arms. "Mimiiii, why didn't you call and _tell_ me you were back? I had to hear it from stupidhead Mark and he just spent the entire time ranting about how you were going to break or some crap and he wouldn't even tell me _any_ of the _important_ stuff, like how cute your new haircut is!"

All I can do is look at her, my mind wavering on the edge of crazy. I don't think I've gotten my hair cut since the last time she would have seen me… but that's not important. Mark wouldn't let me in because he knows I'm going to destroy Roger. He only acts on what I think.

"Mimi…" Right. Maureen's here and I need to focus on her. I can't afford to get lost in Roger. "I didn't know where you went. It was sorta scary. Nobody would tell me if you were… you know." Her eyes get big and I know she didn't mean to say that. "Where you were. They wouldn't tell me that."

"No one knew where I was," I tell Maureen gently. I almost have to be the grown-up for her… it's a strange feeling after Benny. "I disappeared." She's still looking at me with that look I always gave Roger when I wanted something. "But I'm back now, right?" The pout's not going away. "Let me make some money and we can go shopping sometime soon?"

Those were the magic words. Maureen's face lights up and she squeals, hugging me tightly. Apparently I mattered to her… The more I see people from before, the more I realize everything I've been telling myself over the past months was a lie. And over the past month that I've been getting better I've started to figure out… maybe I do deserve to get better.

I barely noticed when Maureen stopped hugging me, but now she's leaning back against my couch, with the expectation of a girlie chat on her face. "So? You been to see Rog yet?" All I bring myself to do is shake my head, and listen to Maureen's shriek. "Why not? Baby, you always loved him so much, how come-"

"Mark won't let me." I barely recognize my voice as I interrupt Maureen and walk over to my window. I won't let myself cry—I'm not at the point where I can justify crying over him to myself—but even talking about Roger is just so hard. "I can't get past the door, Maureen."

Maybe I'll just throw up. Not crying makes me feel gaggy… and throwing up I can allow myself. Throwing up I can pretend has nothing to Roger and the past and future I can't have with him.

"Well, shit. Marky's a dumbass." There's a whole clatter of loud noises just then, and I turn to find Maureen stripped down from her sweater to just a tank top, and pulling a bunch of pins out of her purse. I watch, fascinated, as she turns what was just an averageoutfit into something crazy-sexy going out-ish.

And she's bounding across the room to press a little kiss on my forehead. "I can fix that for you, girlie. Just give me 5 minutes." I raise my eyebrows at her and she laughs, pulling a hair off my top. "Seriously. 5 minutes. In 5 minutes, go up to the loft and I swear you'll get in. If I screw him, you'll probably get a good 45 minutes to talk to Roger… if I just take him on a little date, you'll get about 40."

Her eyes sparkle at me and then she's gone. Sashaying out the apartment and then out of my view. I have no clue what's going on. But a second later giggling filters down the stairwell and through my door. And the next thing I know, Maureen's flitting past my door, dragging a Mark who looks like he just can't believe his luck behind her.

4 and a half minutes. I stop at my only mirror to quickly pull my hair down from the ugly ponytail I've had it up it for days. I have to pretend that I'm still pretty to get through this—it's where I get my confidence from. Hands that have been perfectly manicured and painted rose in all my free time over the past week gently shut my door behind me and I'm slipping up the stairs. I bang on the door, praying he'll answer quickly before I run away.

**_GOD IT'S GOOD TO BE ALIVE_**

I stare at the scribbled out song lyric. I remember Roger writing that song three days after we got together. The angry black line through it is enough to make me pick up my foot and turn to go… and then the door flies open. Blue-blue eyes stare at me and my mouth goes dry. My brown eyes stare back.

"Mimi?"

* * *

**Author's Note/Disclaimer:** Nothing's mine.

It took me forever to figure out how this chapter was going to go and how I was going to get her up there, so I'm sorry to disappear for so long. The next one should be much quicker coming, I have much more time on my hands this summer than usual. R/R _please_… Reviews are even better than candy.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

It may sound pathetic, but I've thought about this forever. Since I ran away. What I would do if I saw Roger again. I thought about how I'd stand there, just stand there, and let him hurt me however he needed to until it was fair and he was okay again. How I'd let him yell at me or grab my wrists or punch the wall or… punch me. Whatever he needed. I always knew that I'd stand there, silently, and take anything he threw at me because that was what I deserved.

What I never thought about was what I would say to Roger so he would know this was what was happening. I guess I always thought the words would come. But now I'm standing here, my eyes locked with Roger's, and the words aren't coming. In fact, my mouth feels like it's filled with cotton and I can't swallow and I think I'm just on this side of hyperventilating.

Because his eyes are filled with tears.

"Mimi?" He asks again. His voice is hoarser this time, from his struggles not to cry, I guess. Before I can quite grasp what's going on, he's got his arms around me. His fingers are tangled in my hair and he's got my head pushed hard against his chest. "Oh Jesus, you're really here. I thought maybe I was… Mimi…"

I can feel his entire body shaking—vibrating, almost—as my head lies on his chest and I feel like I should stop him holding me, but there still aren't any words coming. I still can't even breathe right. Suddenly, my head is away from his chest and Roger's staring intently into my eyes. "I'm sorry," he whispers and my breath catches before getting even more erratic. Everything's starting to spin around me. "I'll never hurt you again. Please stay."

I can't even grasp his words… if I just close my eyes for a second, maybe I'll be able…

My eyes won't open back up.

My eyes won't open back up and my senses are overwhelmed by the smell of Axe body wash and cigarette smoke and some type of soft fabric touching my bare arms. It's Roger's smell… it's Roger's _bed_. I could recognize it always. I fight against my heavy eyes to open them and my field of vision is immediately overwhelmed by the sight of Roger sitting on the edge of his bed. Cradling his guitar in his lap and running his fingers through his hair like he always does when he's nervous. "I…"

"Mimi!" He set the guitar against the wall and carefully stretches out on the bed next to me. He's lying on his stomach and one hand is gently resting on my cheek. It's like I haven't even been gone for months. "You passed out. It freaking terrified me. Are you…?"

"I'm not sick." I've been getting better since Benny got me the medicines and I know why I passed out anyway. There's no reason to freak him out. "I just got a little overwhelmed."

My eyes sweep over his body and I realize I was wrong before. You _can_ tell I've been gone. He's a lot skinner now, just like I am. And his face looks… tighter. More drawn in or something. I hurt him bad. "Rog, I'm so sorry. I… Yell at me. Please. Hurt me like I hurt you."

He looks down at me, his brow wrinkled up in confusion. "Mimi, what are you talking about?" He's been rubbing his thumb over my cheekbone and I can almost see the tension drawing out of his face as he does. Maybe it's not insane to think that all he really wanted was just me back.

"When I kissed-"

"I don't care anymore." I stare at him for a second, before realizing he's not lying. He really doesn't care anymore. "I never should have… shit, with Mark you could have pecked him on the cheek and he woulda reacted like that. I shoulda known it wasn't a big deal. 'Sides… I know I made you do it."

"Roger, you couldn't have made-"

"I drove you to it." I open my mouth, but he lays one of his fingers over it. "I haven't spoken to Mark since you left… I've had a lot of time to think. Don't you think I know I did stuff wrong?"

"Roger, it's over." There. I said it. I interrupted him and I feel like I'm dying inside, but I said it. I promised myself I would.

"It is." I'm a little shocked by how easily he agreed with me, until I feel his arms slip around me and look up at the earnestness in his eyes. He didn't get it. "It's all over, Meems, but we're gonna start over. If… if you want to. I won't yell anymore, I won't get jealous… I'll work at it, I promise. I won't make you hurt anymore."

My head starts to spin again and I take a deep breathe, praying I'm not going to pass out anymore. "I did bad—"

"I know." Roger gently presses a kiss against my forehead and I want to pull away, but I'm too caught up in everything he's saying. Nothing's the way I expected it to be and I'm worried that if I push it too much, I'll find out that it's just a dream and Roger never actually wants anything to do with me again. "You did bad things too. I've been furious at you enough to know it's not just me. But… you can try too. If we start over and just try, I know we can be good together. I… Mimi, I love you and I wouldn't keep running back or opening the door to you if I didn't know somewhere that we're supposed to be together."

He's openly crying now, and so am I. He's not going to yell at me… he's not going to hurt me back. And I sort of know that's _not_ what's fair. This is what's fair. It's what I want—always—and if it's what he wants too, then it's what he deserves.

I feel one of his tears hit my cheek and slowly lean up to kiss the trail it left down his face. I can feel him shudder as my lips touch his jaw and I know that there's no going back now. We're forever.

"Mimi…" he whispers, holding me tighter against him. "Promise me. It won't be perfect, but we'll both try. Don't leave."

I bury my head in his chest, feeling the tears start to soak into his black t-shirt. "Don't push me away."

"Not anymore."

I look up at Roger now and nod slowly. "I promise." Those are the magic words. He pulls at the flannel sheet under it's over both of us and links his arms back around my waist as we cry together and swear we love each other. And I try to readjust my mind to understand this way we are so I can stop feeling like I'm dying inside.

**Author's Note: **So, apparently I do still suck at life (or updating, at least)… but this chapter did come much more quickly than the last one and hopefully it'll keep increasing like that. Reviews may encourage me to write faster? hint hint


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

I've never really believed movies and books with all their romantic ideas and overly idealized story endings. I never believed that you could hurt so bad that you'd have to feel happy again. Or that you could cry so hard that you'd start laughing.

I sorta believe them now. Because that's where we are. Roger Davis can only cry for so long and I've apparently given up feeling sorry for myself over the last month. Roger refusing to hurt me back just proved to me that I shouldn't.

So we cried for as long as we could handle it. And then we started talking. Talking about us a little, but mostly about what we've been doing for the past forever-time. And now Roger's half-sitting against the wall behind his bed and holding me tight in his arms. And I'm leaning against him, my head on his chest and playing with the hair on his arms, twisting it and tugging on it.

And we're laughing.

Slightly hysterical, slightly on the edge of exploding back into tears, but laughing.

"So, I'm inching closer to the guitar and Mark's trying to pretend he's listening to what Princess Maureen is spewing off about, except he keeps glancing over at me. Sizing up how close I am to the guitar and crap. And I'm having fun watching him get all twitchy and listening to Maureen's voice get higher and higher while she tries to make him pay attention to her. I mean, I've got to do something to make me have fun every once in awhile, right, Meems? I'm not a total masochist." He gives me the puppy dog eyes he always uses when he's worried that he's coming across like a dick in whatever story he's telling me. So, simply to reassure him, I giggle and kiss his nose. Or I could be doing it because since I got him back, my lips have had some sort of crazy desire to be attached to him whenever possible.

Roger grins down at me, gently squeezing my waist before continuing his story. "So, I'm right next to the guitar and I reach out and touch it with one finger – longing and melodramatic-like. You would have been proud of me, Princess. And Mark's just staring at me, his mouth hanging open, not even paying attention to Maureen snapping her fingers in front of his face. Finally, she just freaks. I mean, she loses her tiny mind. She gets up and goes over to the window, climbs onto the fire escape, points at some guy on the street and yells 'Hey, you. My loser boyfriend's too occupied staring at his angst-ridden best friend and _his_ lame-ass guitar to pay _any_ attention to me and I just don't think that's cool. I mean, you think I'm hot, right? _You'd_ pay attention to me, right?' And Mark's turning bright red, trying to make her stop."

And I'm laughing again. Helplessly giggling as Roger pulls me as tight against him as he can, while pressing kisses against my hair. "Mark and Maureen are back together?" I manage as Roger seems determined to squeeze every last giggle out of my body.

Roger nods down at me. "_Joanne_ finally left _Maureen_ for a change and she's sticking to her guns. I listened to Mark invent this huge plot to get her back for an entire freaking month after they broke up."

"And he did it?"

"He did. You know how Maureen likes to have someone she can get all whipped." That wasn't even that funny and I'm laughing. "It seems to work for them."

"Mark closed the door on me."

Oh dios. We're not laughing anymore. I open my mouth and stupid shit comes out and Roger's staring at me like… like I've been saying stupid shit.

"Alright, babes, maybe we should get you something to eat." He raises an eyebrow at me and as he shifts his arms around to be able to pick me up, I realize he doesn't get that I wasn't just rambling. "I'm not sure if we've got anything but soup – pay day's still not for a little while and soup's cheap – we might have some crackers – but it'd be good for you and—Ow! Shit, what'd you do that for?"

I bit down on his shoulder.

I had to get out of his arms.

"Rog, I'm serious. I cam up to see you when I was still sick—" When I was more sick. But he doesn't need to worry about that right now. One thing at a time. "—when I was sick. I thought I was gonna die and I wanted to make sure you were okay. To make sure I didn't break you. And Mark answered the door, then told me I shouldn't have come back. And then he closed it on me! Do you have any idea… I thought you were… he implied that you… I thought you were dead!"

Laughter has given way back to tears again.

They're streaking down my face (probably destroying the make-up I dashed on in an unconscious hope that looking pretty might trick Roger into forgetting my "badness"… I think). They're blurring my sight, but I can still see Roger's forehead wrinkle up the way it always does when he's trying to process unexpected information.

"Anyway," I mumble pathetically, sniffling a little. "I have real food in my apartment. If you wanna eat, we can go there – I know all you've been eating lately is soup." It was a pathetic attempt to make him smile. And it doesn't so much work.

"Oh Meems…" Roger suddenly leans forward and runs his thumb over each of my cheeks. Wiping away tears.

He never could stand it when I cried.

The wrinkles crisscrossing his forehead smooth away as he presses a kiss against mine. "Meems… Baby. Listen, I'm sure Mark didn't mean it like that. He's been through a lot of shit in the past year. After I got over being mad at you, I started being mad at him." His eyes close and he roughly runs his fingers through his hair.

His unbleached… natural brunette hair.

He may say he's over it, but the signs of how bad I hurt him are still all over the place.

"I haven't talked to him since you ran away. I'm sure he just… this is all my fault. I'll talk to him later. Fix this." He opens his eyes and they start intensity-flashing as he stares forward into mine. At some point I started facing him, sitting cross-legged between his spread legs, and he grabbed hold of my shoulders. His fingers are now digging under my collarbone. "I know he didn't mean to upset you, babes. We'll figure it out, okay?"

Not a single part of my body believes Roger, but I nod anyway, and let him press kisses all over my face. I don't have the energy to contradict him right now.

_He_ can deal with Mark and Mark's secret inner jerk.

I have to push all my energy into being able to say what I know I need to say next. No secrets this time.

"I was with Benny when I was gone."

He's stopped kissing me and my breath catches in my throat, but I force past it. I'm not even crying now. If we're going to stop being jealous and fighting and hurting each other, it's going to have to start with me saying stupid shit and yet forcing through right now.

"Not the entire time," I add, hastily. This has to be done delicately. You always have to handle Roger Davis very carefully.

Normally, with bad news, I'd crawl into Roger's lap and play with his hair or stroke his chest or kiss his neck – anything to soften the blow. But that never worked with stuff about Benny. So I take a deep breath and stare straight forward into his eyes. "After Mark closed the door on me. I wasn't looking and… uh… I ran straight into Benny. And I almost fainted and started crying and… uh… he took me down to my apartment. He'd been living there."

Roger's hands let go of my shoulders, suddenly, and fall limply into my lap.

"And… um… he got me food and medicine and we spent two nights together. Two really lovely nights." I can see his jaw tighten and my hand automatically reaches out to sooth it. "And then I asked about you."

He looks up at me now as it suddenly clicks in that this _isn't_ a story about how I fell back in love with Benny and can't be with him. I can still see in his eyes, though, that it's tormenting him to hear about another man when we only just re-found us. "He hurt me. He grabbed my wrists and dug his knee into me and yelled. I know he didn't mean to be horrible. He just couldn't handle it. He couldn't handle that he couldn't ever be you."

His arms are around me all of a sudden. I know he's never going to truly let go now.

Somehow I know that this time it's going to work.

"It has always been you," I whisper fiercely, staring up into his equally fierce eyes, "and you've got to know that. The whole time after Benny came to his senses and realized he hurt me, he's been coming to my apartment and feeding me three meals a day and making sure I take my medicine and I've been thinking about the things I would say if I ever saw you again."

"Are… are you with Benny now?" Roger finally manages.

I actually manage to laugh a little as I shake my head. "You know I'm not. And he knows he and I will never be romantically entangled again. He may end up being my best guy friend after all this nursing me back to health crap, but… you and I were always meant to be, Roger. I've never been able to stop loving you. And now that I've got you… I'm never letting you go."

At the same moment that my arms twine around his neck and my lips crush against his, his arms pull my body against his more fiercely than I've ever been held before.

And as I allow myself to sink into the two of us just being – no second guessing – I barely notice the third thing that's occurring.

Roger's bedroom door is being flung open and a very excited male voice is bellowing "Here you are, Rog, you'll never believe what Maure—Oh, shit, who's—Fuck, Rog. **_Her_**?"

**Author's Note: **Alright, so as I've mentioned in previous chapters, virtually nothing is mine. (Except for the actual words themselves… I suppose.) We're winding down towards the last little bit, but reviews would still be greatly appreciated… I always feel so awkward writing these things.


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